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A CHIUD'S 3OURN&Y 
.WITH DICKENS 



KATE- "DOUGIMS WIGGIN 




Class __JEjLil££i. 



-S- 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSn^ 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 
WITH DICKENS 



A CHILD'S 

JOURNEY WITH 

DICKENS 



BY 
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

I912 






COPYRIGHT, I912, BY KATE DOUGLAS RIGGS 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published March IQ12 



CCI,A309771 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 
WITH DICKENS 




THE CHILD 




A CHILD'S JOURNEY 
WITH DICKENS 

WHEN I was a little girl (I al- 
ways think that these words, in 
precisely this juxtaposition, are six of the 
most charming in the language) — when 
I was a little girl, I lived, between the 
ages of six and sixteen, in a small vil- 
lage in Maine. My sister and I had few 
playmates, but I cannot remember that 
we were ever dull, for dullness in a child, 
as in a grown person, means lack of 
dreams and visions, and those we had 
a-plenty. We were fortunate, too, in that 
our house was on the brink of one of 

[ 3] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

the loveliest rivers in the world. When 
we clambered down the steep bank to 
the little cove that was just beneath our 
bedroom windows, we found ourselves 
facing a sheet of crystal water as quiet 
as a lake, a lake from the shores of 
which we could set any sort of adventure 
afloat ; yet scarcely three hundred feet 
away was a roaring waterfall, — a baby 
Niagara, — which, after dashing over the 
dam in a magnificent tawny torrent, 
spent itself in a wild stream that made a 
path between rocky cliffs until it reached 
the sea, eight miles away. No child could, 
be lonely who lived on the brink of 
such a river ; and then we had, beside 
our studies and our country sports, our 

[4] 



WITH DICKENS 



books, which were the dearest of all our 
friends. It is a long time ago, but I can 
see very clearly a certain set of black 
walnut book-shelves, hanging on the 
wall of the family sitting-room. There 
were other cases here and there through 
the house, but I read and re-read the par- 
ticular volumes in this one from year to 
year, and a strange, motley collection 
they were, to be sure ! On the top shelf 
were George Sand's "Teverino,'' *^Ty- 
pee,'' " Undine,'' Longfellow's and By- 
ron's " Poems," " The Arabian Nights," 
Bailey's " Festus," '' The Lamplighter," 
"Scottish Chiefs," Thackeray's "Book 
of Snobs," "Ivanhoe," and the "Life 
of P. T. Barnum." This last volume, I 

[si 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

may say, did not represent the literary 
inclinations of my parents, but had been 
given me on my birthday by a grateful 
neighbor for saving the life of a valuable 
Jersey calf tethered on the too steep 
slopes of our river bank. The ^^ Life of 
Barnum'' was the last book on the het- 
erogeneous top shelf, and on the one next 
below were most of the novels of Charles 
Dickens, more eagerly devoured than all 
the rest, although no book in the case 
had escaped a second reading save Bailey's 
** Festus,'' a little of which went a very 
long way with us. 

It seems to me that no child nowa- 
days has time to love an author as the 
children and young people of that gen- 

[6] 



WITH DICKENS 



eration loved Dickens ; nor do I think 
that any living author of to-day provokes 
love in exactly the same fashion. From 
our yellow dog, Pip, to the cat, the ca- 
nary, the lamb, the cow, down to all the 
hens and cocks, almost every living thing 
was named, sooner or later, after one of 
Dickens's characters ; while my favorite 
sled, painted in brown, with the title in 
brilliant red letters, was **The Artful 
Dodger/' Why did we do it ? We little 
creatures could n't have suspected that 
*^the democratic movement in literature 
had come to town," as Richard White- 
ing says, nevertheless we responded to it 
vigorously, ardently, and swelled the 
hero's public. 

[7] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

For periodical literature we had in our 
household "Harper's Magazine'' and 
"Littell's Living Age," but we never 
read newspapers, so that there was a mo- 
ment of thrilling excitement when my 
mother, looking up from the ^* Portland 
Press," told us that Mr. Dickens was 
coming to America, and that he was even 
then sailing from England. I remember 
distinctly that I prayed for him fervently 
several times during the next week, that 
the voyage might be a safe one, and that 
even the pangs of seasickness might be 
spared so precious a personage. In due 
time we heard that he had arrived in New 
York, and had begun the series of read- 
ings from his books ; then he came to 
[8] 



WITH DICKENS 



Boston, which was still nearer, and then 
— day of unspeakable excitement ! — we 
learned that he had been prevailed upon 
to give one reading in Portland, which 
was only sixteen miles away from our 
village. 

It chanced that my mother was taking 
me to Charlestown, Massachusetts, to pay 
a visit to an uncle on the very day after 
the one appointed for the great event in 
Portland. She, therefore, planned to take 
me into town the night before, and to 
invite the cousin, at whose house we were 
to sleep, to attend the reading with her. 
I cannot throw a more brilliant light on 
the discipline of that period than to say 
that the subject of my attending the read- 

[9] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

ing was never once mentioned. The price 
of tickets was supposed to be almost pro- 
hibitory. I cannot remember the exact 
sum ; I only know that it was mentioned 
with bated breath in the village of Hollis, 
and that there was a general feeling in 
the community that any one who paid 
it would have to live down a reputation 
for riotous extravagance forever after- 
ward. I neither wailed nor wept, nor 
made any attempt to set aside the pa- 
rental decrees (which were anything but 
severe in our family), but if any martyr 
in Fox's ** Book '' ever suffered more 
poignant anguish than I, I am heartily 
sorry for him; yet my common sense as- 
sured me that a child could hardly hope 

[ -°] 



WITH DICKENS 



to be taken on a week's junketing to 
Charlestown, and expect any other en- 
tertainment to be added to it for years to 
come. The definition of a "pleasure '' in 
the State of Maine, county of York, vil- 
lage of Hollis, year of our Lord 1868, 
was something that could not reasonably 
occur too often without being cheapened. 
The days, charged with suppressed 
excitement, flew by. I bade good-bye 
to my little sister, who was not to share 
my metropolitan experiences, and my 
mother and I embarked for Portland on 
the daily train that dashed hither and 
thither at the rate of about twelve miles 
an hour. When the august night and 
moment arrived, my mother and her 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

cousin set out for the Place, and the 
moment they were out of sight I slipped 
out of the door and followed them, 
traversing quickly the three or four 
blocks that separated me from the old 
City Hall and the Preble House, where 
Dickens was stopping. I gazed at all 
the windows and all the entrances of 
both buildings without beholding any 
trace of my hero. I watched the throng 
of happy, excited, lucky people crowd- 
ing their way into the hall, and went 
home in a chastened mood to bed, — 
a bed which, as soon as I got into it, 
was crowded with Little Nell and the 
Marchioness, Florence Dombey, Bella 
Wilfer, Susan Nipper, and Little Em'ly. 

[ 12] 



WITH DICKENS 



There were other dreams, too. Not 
only had my idol provided me with hu- 
man friends, to love and laugh and weep 
over, but he had wrought his genius 
into things ; so that, waking or sleeping, 
every bunch of holly or mistletoe, every 
plum pudding was alive ; every crutch 
breathed of Tiny Tim; every cricket 
and every singing, steaming kettle had 
a soul. 

The next morning we started on our 
railroad journey, which I remember as 
one being full of excitement from the 
beginning, for both men and women 
were discussing the newspapers with ex- 
traordinary interest, the day before hav- 
ing been the one on which the President 

[ 13 ] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

of the United States had been formally 
impeached. When the train stopped 
for two or three minutes at North Ber- 
wick, the people on the side of the car 
next the station suddenly arose and 
looked eagerly out at some object of 
apparent interest. I was not, at any 
age, a person to sit still in her seat 
when others were looking out of win- 
dows, and my small nose was quickly 
flattened against one of the panes. There 
on the platform stood the Adored One ! 
His hands were plunged deep in his 
pockets (a favorite gesture), but pre- 
sently one was removed to wave away 
laughingly a piece of the famous Ber- 
wick sponge cake, offered him by Mr. 

[ -4] 



WITH DICKENS 



Osgood, of Boston, his travelling com- 
panion and friend. 

I knew him at once ! — the smiling, 
genial, mobile face, rather highly col- 
ored, the brilliant eyes, the watch chain, 
the red carnation in the button-hole, 
and the expressive hands, much given to 
gesture. It was only a momentary view, 
for the train started, and Dickens van- 
ished, to resume his place in the car 
next to ours, where he had been, had I 
known it, ever since we left Portland. 

When my mother was again occupied 
with her book, I slipped away and en- 
tered the next car. I took a humble, un- 
occupied seat near the end, close by the 
much patronized tank of (unsterilized) 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

drinking-water, and the train-boy's bas- 
ket of popcorn balls and molasses candy, 
and gazed steadily at the famous man, 
who was chatting busily with Mr. Os- 
good. I remembered gratefully that my 
mother had taken the old ribbons off my 
gray velvet hat and tied me down with 
blue under the chin, and I thought, if 
Dickens should happen to rest his eye 
upon me, that he could hardly fail to be 
pleased with the effect of the blue rib- 
bon that went under my collar and held 
a very small squirrel muff in place. Un- 
fortunately, however, his eye never did 
meet mine, but some family friends es- 
pied me, and sent me to ask my mother 
to come in and sit with them. I brought 
[ i6] 



WITH DICKENS 



her back, and fortunately there was not 
room enough for me with the party, so 
I gladly resumed my modest seat by the 
popcorn boy, where I could watch Dick- 
ens, quite unnoticed. There is an Indian 
myth which relates that when the gaze 
of the Siva rested for the first time on 
Tellatonea, the most beautiful of women, 
his desire to see her was so great that his 
body became all eyes. Such a trans- 
formation, I fear, was perilously near to 
being my fate ! Half an hour passed, per- 
haps, and one gentleman after another 
came from here or there to exchange a 
word of greeting with the famous nov- 
elist, so that he was never for a moment 
alone, thereby inciting in my breast my 

[ '7] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

first, and about my last, experience of the 
passion of jealousy. Suddenly, however, 
Mr. Osgood arose, and with an apology 
went into the smoking-car. I never knew 
how it happened ; I had no plan, no pre- 
paration, no intention, no provocation; 
but invisible ropes pulled me out of my 
seat, and, speeding up the aisle, I planted 
myself timorously down, an unbidden 
guest, in the seat of honor. I had a 
moment to recover my equanimity, for 
Dickens was looking out of the window, 
but he turned in a moment, and said 
with justifiable surprise : — 

*^ God bless my soul, where did you 
come from?'' 

** I came from Hollis, Maine,'' I stam- 
[ '8] 



WITH DICKENS 



mered, " and I 'm going to Charlestown 
to visit my uncle. My mother and her 
cousin went to your reading last night, 
but, of course, three could n't go from 
the same family, so I stayed at home. 
Nora, that's my little sister, stayed at 
home too. She's too small to go on a 
journey, but she wanted to go to the read- 
ing dreadfully. There was a lady there 
who had never heard of Betsey Trot- 
wood, and had only read two of your 
books ! " 

" Well, upon my word ! " he said ; 
" you do not mean to say that you have 
read them ! " 

** Of course I have," I replied ; "every 
one of them but the two that we are 

[ 19] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

going to buy in Boston, and some of 
them six times/' 

*' Bless my soul ! '' he ejaculated again. 
" Those long thick books, and you such 
a slip of a thing/' 

** Of course,'' I explained conscien- 
tiously, " I do skip some of the very dull 
parts once in a while ; not the short dull 
parts, but the long ones," 

He laughed heartily, ** Now, that is 
something that I hear very little about," 
he said, ^' I distinctly want to learn 
more about those very dull parts," And 
whether to amuse himself, or to amuse 
me, I do not know, he took out a note- 
book and pencil from his pocket and 
proceeded to give me an exhausting and 

[20] 



WITH DICKENS 



exhaustive examination on this subject ; 
the books in which the dull parts pre- 
dominated; and the characters and sub- 
jects which principally produced them. 
He chuckled so constantly during this 
operation that I could hardly help be- 
lieving myself extraordinarily agreeable, 
so I continued dealing these infant blows, 
under the delusion that I was flinging 
him bouquets. 

It was not long before one of my 
hands was in his, and his arm around 
my waist, while we talked of many 
things. They say, I believe, that his 
hands were ^'undistinguished'' in shape, 
and that he wore too many rings. Well, 
those criticisms must come from persons 

[2. ] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

who never felt the warmth of his hand- 
clasp ! For my part, I am glad that Pull- 
man chair cars had not come into fash- 
ion, else I should never have experienced 
the delicious joy of snuggling up to Gen- 
ius, and of being distinctly encouraged 
in the attitude. 

I wish I could recall still more of his 
conversation, but I was too happy, too 
exhilarated, and too inexperienced to 
take conscious notes of the interview. I 
remember feeling that I had never known 
anybody so well and so intimately, and 
that I talked with him as one talks under 
cover of darkness or before the flickering 
light of a fire. It seems to me, as I look 
back now, and remember how the little 

[ 22 J 



WITH DICKENS 



soul of me came out and sat in the sun- 
shine of his presence, that I must have 
had some premonition that the child, who 
would come to be one of the least of 
writers, was then talking with one of the 
greatest; — talking, too, of the author's 
profession and high calling. All the little 
details of the meeting stand out as clearly 
as though it had happened yesterday. I 
can see every article of his clothing and 
of my own ; the other passengers in the 
car ; the landscape through the window, 
and above all the face of Dickens, deeply 
lined, with sparkling eyes and an amused, 
waggish smile that curled the corners of 
his mouth under his grizzled moustache. 
A part of our conversation was given to 

[ 23 ] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

a Boston newspaper next day, by the au- 
thor himself, or by Mr. Osgood, and a 
little more was added a few years after 
by an old lady who sat in the next seat 
to us. (The pronoun " us '' seems ridicu- 
lously intimate, but I have no doubt I 
used it, quite unabashed, at that date.) 

"What book of mine do you like 
best?'' Dickens asked, I remember; and 
I answered, "Oh, I like David Copper- 
field much the best. That is the one I 
have read six times.'' 

" Six times, — good, good ! " he re- 
plied ; " I am glad that you like Davy, 
so do I ; — I like it best, too ! " clapping 
his hands; and that was the only remark 
he made which attracted the attention 

[24] 



WITH DICKENS 



of the other passengers, who looked in 
our direction now and then, I have been 
told, smiling at the interview, but pre- 
serving its privacy with the utmost friend- 
liness. 

" Of course," I added, " I almost said 
* Great Expectations,' because that comes 
next. We named our little yellow dog 
Mr. Pip. They told father he was part 
rat terrier, and we were all so pleased. 
Then one day father showed him a trap 
with a mouse in it. The mouse wiggled 
its tail just a little, and Pip was so fright- 
ened that he ran under the barn and 
stayed the rest of the day. Then all the 
neighbors made fun of him, and you can 
think how Nora and I love him when 

[ 25 ] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

he's had such a hard time, just like Pip 
in ^ Great Expectations' ! '' 

Here again my new friend's mirth was 
delightful to behold, so much so that 
my embarrassed mother, who had been 
watching me for half an hour, almost 
made up her mind to drag me away be- 
fore the very eyes of our fellow passengers. 
I had never been thought an amusing 
child in the family circle ; what then, 
could I be saying to the most distin- 
guished and popular author in the 
universe ? 

" We have another dog," I went on, 
" and his name is Mr. Pocket. We were 
playing with Pip, who is a smooth dog, 
one day, when a shaggy dog came along 

f 26] 



WITH DICKENS 



that did n't belong to anybody, and had n't 
any home. He Hked Pip and Pip liked 
him, so we kept him, and named him 
Pocket after Pip's friend. The real Mr. 
Pip and Mr. Pocket met first in Miss 
Havisham's garden, and they had such a 
funny fight it always makes father laugh 
till he can't read ! Then they became 
great friends. Perhaps you remember 
Mr. Pip and Mr. Pocket ? " And Dickens 
thought he did, which, perhaps, is not 
strange, considering that he was the au- 
thor of their respective beings. Mr. Harry 
Furniss declares that "Great Expecta- 
tions" was Dickens's favorite novel, but I 
can only say that to me he avowed his spe- 
cial fondness for "David Copperfield." 

[ 27 ] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

*^ Did you want to go to my reading 
very much ? '' was another question. Here 
was a subject that had never once been 
touched upon in all the past days, — a 
topic that stirred the very depths of my 
disappointment and sorrow, fairly chok- 
ing me, and making my lip tremble by 
its unexpectedness, as I faltered, " Tes; 
more than tongue, can tell'' 

I looked up a second later, when I was 
sure that the tears in my eyes were not 
going to fall, and to my astonishment saw 
that Dickens's eyes were in precisely the 
same state of moisture. That was a never- 
to-be-forgotten moment, although I was 
too young to appreciate the full signifi- 
cance of it. 

[28 ] 



WITH DICKENS 



** Do you cry when you read out loud?'" 
I asked curiously. " We all do in our 
family. And we never read about Tiny 
Tim, or about Steerforth when his body 
is washed up on the beach, on Saturday 
nights, or our eyes are too swollen to go 
to Sunday School.'" 

" Yes, I cry when I read about Steer- 
forth," he answered quietly, and I felt 
no astonishment. 

** We cry the worst when it says, ^ All 
the men who carried him had known 
him and gone sailing with him, and seen 
him merry and bold,' '' I said, growing 
very tearful in reminiscence. 

We were now fast approaching our 
destination, — the station in Boston, — 

[29] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

and the passengers began to collect their 
wraps and bundles, Mr. Osgood had two 
or three times made his appearance, but 
had been waved away with a smile by 
Dickens, — a smile that seemed to say, 
— "You will excuse me, I know, but 
this child has the right of way/' 

"You are not travelling alone?'' he 
asked, as he arose to put on his overcoat. 

" Oh, no," I answered, coming down 
to earth for the first time since I had 
taken my seat beside him, — " oh, no, 
I had a mother, but I forgot all about 
her." Whereupon he said, — " You are 
a passed-mistress of the art of flattery!" 
But this remark was told me years after- 
wards by the old lady who was sitting 

[ 30] 



WITH DICKENS 



in the next seat, and who overheard as 
much of the conversation as she possibly 
could, so she informed me. 

Dickens took me back to the forgot- 
ten mother, and introduced himself, and 
I, still clinging to his hand, left the car 
and walked with him down the platform 
until he disappeared in the carriage with 
Mr. Osgood, leaving me with the feeling 
that I must continue my existence some- 
how in a dull and dreary world. 

That was my last glimpse of him, but 
pictures made in childhood are painted 
in bright hues, and this one has never 
faded. The child of to-day would hardly 
be able to establish so instantaneous a 
friendship. She would have heard of 

[ 3' ] 



A CHILD'S JOURNEY 

celebrity hunters and autograph collect- 
ors and be self-conscious, while I fol- 
lowed the dictates of my countrified 
little heart, and scraped acquaintance 
confidently with the magician who had 
glorified my childhood by his art. 

He had his literary weaknesses, 
Charles Dickens, but they were all dear, 
big, attractive ones, virtues gfown a bit 
wild and rank. Somehow when you put 
him — with his elemental humor, his 
inexhaustible vitality, his humanity, sym- 
pathy, and pity — beside the Impecca- 
bles, he always looms large ! Just for a 
moment, when the heart overpowers the 
reason, he even makes the flawless ones 
look a little faded and colorless! 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



^p Ifeate 2?ottffIag Wissi^ 



MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS. lUustrated. 

ROBINETTA. Illustrated. 

REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM. Holiday Edition. 

Illustrated. 
SUSANNA AND SUE. Illustrated. 

THE OLD PEABODY PEW. With decorations and illustrations. 
REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM. 
NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA. Illustrated. 
ROSE 0» THE RIVER. Illustrated in color. 
THE AFFAIR AT THE INN. Illustrated. 
THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL. Illustrated. 
A CATHEDRAL COURTSHIP, and PENELOPE'S ENG- 
LISH EXPERIENCES, Illustrated. 
PENELOPE'S PROGRESS. 
PENELOPE'S IRISH EXPERIENCES. 
PENELOPE'S EXPERIENCES. I. England; II. Scotland; 

III. Ireland; Holiday Edition » With many illustrations by Charles 

E. Brock. 
A CATHEDRAL COURTSHIP. Holiday Edition, enlarged. 

Illustrated by C. E. Brock. 
THE BIRDS' CHRISTMAS CAROL. Illustrated. 
THE STORY OF PATSY. lUustrated. 

A SUMMER IN A CANON. A California Story. Illustrated. 
TIMOTHY'S QUEST. A Story for Anybody, Young or Old, who 

cares to read it. Also Holiday Edition. Illustrated. 
POLLY OLIVER'S PROBLEM. Illustrated. 
THE VILLAGE WATCH-TOWER. 
MARM LISA. 
NINE LOVE SONGS, AND A CAROL. Music by Mrs. Wiggin. 

Wcwds by Herrick, Sill, and others. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

Boston and New York. 



APR 4 1912 



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